


Lyra Breaker and the Forgotten Memories

by cityskyliinee



Series: The Tales of Lyra Breaker [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animagus, But not that much, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, F/M, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Pansy Parkinson, Good Slytherins, Hogwarts Third Year, This poor boy!, Young animagus, like really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2018-11-06 15:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11039331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cityskyliinee/pseuds/cityskyliinee
Summary: As far as Lyra Breaker can remember, her life started when she was thirteen, in a forest, in Wiltshire with no memory of who she is and how she got there; Ii isn't until she encounters the Malfoy family that a couple memories start resurfacing, but it is still only a few. With seemingly no family, Lyra is happily taken in by the Malfoy family.But then, it's time to go to Hogwarts where Lyra finds herself constantly bombarded with questions by other students about who she is and where she came from.And who is the Prisoner of Azkaban?And how come he seems to know something about her past?





	1. When a Panther accidentally trespasses on Private Property

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first attempt at writing a fanfiction on Archive of Our Own, not that I haven't written fanfiction before. Lemme just clear a few things up here.  
> Lyra Breaker does not have a major role in the overall role in the whole Harry Potter universe until the sixth year, this series starts at year three. From year three to the end of five is just Lyra trying to find out about her past and who she is. From these first books, she's treated more like a side story that also happens to be involved in the major, over-arching plot. I'm not gonna lie when I say she's also a bit of 'Draco redeemer' (not that he needs it, I still love him), but she is still like the most flawed person ever (even more evident in year six).  
> Anyway, that's just a quick summary of what this book is, I really hope you enjoy this first chapter.

Wiltshire, a peaceful, quiet county in South West England. In it, is a forest that, even though it does find fox chasers and other sorts of poachers from time to time, is relatively undisturbed by humans. 

However, in the heart of the woods, stood a young girl.

‘Where am I?’ 

The strange girl glanced around suspiciously, her blue eyes glinting slightly in the light of the soft light of sunrise that bathed the forest. An orange sky rose above the trees, casting long shadows across the ground. Confused, she tried to take in her surroundings a little more; everything around her was trees and grass added onto by a chilly, biting wind that swept through the leaves and caused her to shudder slightly. The oak leaves swamped most of the sky, blotting out most of the brilliant amber sky overhead. She looked around again, but couldn’t see anyone at all; she was completely alone in an unfamiliar place.

‘How did I get here?’

That thought was one that made her think, deeply. How did she get here? How did she end up standing in this seemingly, calm, empty and undisturbed forest. She hadn’t passed out, she was standing straight upwards. Had she hit her head? No, that was stupid. She would’ve had to have passed out from that to not remember how she got here. Then, as she tried to remember, another, more major, question floated into her mind.

‘Who am I?’

That was the bomb that suddenly hit her, who was she? 

Because, as far as Lyra was concerned, her life began when she thirteen, standing in the middle of a forest in God knows where.

That was it! Her name was Lyra! Shouldn’t she have a second name though? She tried very hard to remember it but to no avail. And she was thirteen years old, also a good thing to remember. Great, she was getting somewhere.

So, that was three questions on her mind that she had to get answers.

Where was she?

How did she get here?

And who was she?

All of them seemed quite daunting to her. How was she going to solve this question? Would the answers lie in the middle of this forest? She doubted it. She had to keep moving to find an answer.

“Lyra,” she said to herself, to get a feel of the name. It felt strange yet comforting on her tongue at the same time. If she could remember that, then surely, with a bit of time, she could remember everything else.

Then, something rather odd happened. Lyra felt her body contorting and the ground suddenly grow closer. She hit her head on the grass, temporarily making her feel dizzy. Once she regained her senses, everything felt different. She was on all fours, her body felt longer and senses suddenly heightened. Looking down, she noticed something. Her body was being held upright by four, large black paws.

That was another question added to the list:

Where was she?

How did she get here?

Who was she?

And what the hell just happened?

Breathing heavily, she looked around. The world suddenly felt different, so simple. Though, she could feel danger. Wasn’t that weird? She began to walk, finding that she was quite used to doing all this. Had she done it before; she, not so surprisingly, couldn’t remember.

Lyra grumbled to herself, growing tired of the many, many questions that were being added to her list. She was hungry, thirsty and extremely tired. She could just rest right here until…

“What the hell?” Spat a strange, strong accented voice behind her.

“Is that a….” another male voice said.

Lyra swiveled around to see two men looking at her with fear in their eyes, pointing strange, metal objects in her direction. She eyed the warily and felt panic flare when a clicking sound came from them.

“Hey! Wait!” It was no use, it came out as an aggressive growl more like an animal than a human.

The men seemed officially terrified now and began firing strange, small things from the metal object right at her at top speed.

Then Lyra remembered the word.

‘Guns’

Not hesitating, Lyra jumped off of her back legs and fired off in the opposite direction to the two men, fearful for her life. Her paws heavily slammed the ground as more bullets zipped her way, only narrowly missing her as she dodged from side to side. Her tail streamed out from behind her when an idea struck her. 

Swerving suddenly to the left, she dug her large claws onto a thick tree trunk and pulled herself upwards with powerful leaps. The cries of the two men were far in the distance but still audible. She continued to climb upwards until she reached the top of the tree.

Crouching to keep her balance steady, Lyra’s eyes were entranced by the vast world around her. The forest didn’t seem to stretch on that much further than from where she was crouched, though she was still surrounded by trees. In the distance, she could just about make out a building, like a very large house. 

Lyra let out a sudden yowl when something hit her leg. It was one of the bullets! Panicking, and feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline, Lyra leapt from tree to tree at a speed she didn’t think was possible. The branches shuddered beneath her weight as she crashed through the forest until one finally snapped beneath her.

Letting out a strangled cry, her body hit the floor as she emerged out onto a large clearing. Her breathing was heavy but shallow, her ribs hurt and the adrenaline suddenly dissipated into thin air as she let herself slump to the ground.

In the distance, she saw a boy up in the air, riding what seemed to be a broom. Out of everything she’d seen so far today, that was the most bewildering to Lyra.

He landed on the ground and drew out what look liked a well polished stick; that said, Lyra felt fear at the sight of it. 

“No, wait…” Luckily for her, her own voice was back. 

She felt… human again.

The boy looked horrified and furrowed his eyebrows as he seemed to mutter the word “animagus” to himself.

“Who are you?” He demanded to know.

Lyra’s gaze fixed on his, “that’s a good question.”

Then everything went black.

…

Draco Malfoy wasn’t entirely sure what to do.

One moment he’d been happily flying around the grounds of Malfoy Manor and the next he was watching an actual panther stumble upon his family’s property and change into a girl around his age. She was a skinny thing, wearing a pair of ill fitting shorts coupled with a white t-shirt, her eyes screamed for help. Her hair was ragged, a dark brown with a tint of red, ragged with leaves and mud. It was obvious that she had been running from something, the wound in her leg told her that much.

“Who are you?” He had demanded to know.

He could remember the panicked look in the girl’s eyes when he had asked that and the way her breathing suddenly increased.

“That’s a good question.” She had attempted a weak smile before passing out.

And now Draco just stood there, looking on at the body of the girl.

Was she dead?

He knelt down and poked her, unsure of how to handle the situation.

“Hello?” He asked but the girl was truly knocked out.

Draco, still unsure of what to do, picked up the girl, she was slightly heavier than he expected. He began to carry her in the direction of the manor, annoyed that he would have to come back for his broom later.

He trekked across the grassy clearing until he arrived just a little off from his Manor. His mother was out in the garden, her eyes closed underneath the sunglasses she was wearing as she bathed in the sunlight. Her blonde hair was loose and her long fingers were placed atop her chest as if she were sleeping.

“Mother!” He called, gently placing the girl down, “mother!”

Narcissa Malfoy shot up and looked at her son; slowly, her eyes trailed down to the sleeping girl at his feet and she shot up and hurried over. 

“Draco!” She said, panicked, “what’s going on here?”

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly, “look, I’m not joking when I say that she is an animagus.”

Narcissa glared at him, “she looks no older than you are Draco, and not even you can even try to turn into an animagus.”

“Mother,” Draco was completely serious, “I told you that I wasn’t joking, I would never joke about anything like this. She was… a panther and then she just… turned.” 

Narcissa glanced at the girl and then called out.

“Ditty!”

A small, female house-elf appeared, dressed in a white pillow case. She glanced up obediently at Narcissa but sent a slightly confused glance at the strange girl.

“How can I be helping you, Mistress Malfoy?” The little elf greeted.

Narcissa looked at Draco, “fetch Lucius, will you.”

“Of course, Mistress, Ditty will be right back with sir, Mistress.”

And with a small ‘pop’ the little house elf vanished.

Narcissa knelt down beside the girl, Draco took a step back. She placed a hand on her forehead and then check the injury on her leg. It looked as though a bullet had just skimmed the surface of her leg. It was bleeding but, luckily, only lightly. 

Lucius appeared beside Narcissa and blinked in surprise at the young girl lying unconscious at his feet. He looked at his wife who was too busy checking over the girl to greet or inform him. Draco was watching the entire scene completely confused.

“Who is this?” Asked Lucius warily.

“That’s what I asked her just before she passed out,” Draco informed them, “she told me that it was a good question.”

“Idiotic muggles,” muttered Lucius, bending down to look where the wound hit, “they shoot their own kind?”

“I doubt she’s a muggle…” Narcissa looked up, “Draco claims she’s an animagus.”

Instead of questioning this, Lucius looked thoughtful.

“I wonder…” He trailed off, “do you remember seeing this girl at Hogwarts?”

Draco shook his blonde head, “not at all.”

“We’ll just have to see about it when she wakes up.” Narcissa nodded to herself, “for now, we wait. We need to let her have a full recovery.”

And with that, everything for the Malfoys changed.


	2. When Lyra meets the Malfoys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lyra has an odd but nice first encounter with the Malfoy family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just to let you know, there's been one major difference to this universe and that instead of it being the sacred twenty-eight, it is now the sacred twenty-nine. This is mainly due to avoid plot holes and such later on.

Lyra’s head really hurt, like, really, really hurt; it pounded like someone was repeating slamming against her skull. The memory of the forest hung clear in her mind but, beyond passing out, she struggled to remember anything else. 

How long had she been out for? It didn’t feel that long but, then again, it was impossible to be able to tell these sorts of things from when you’re unconscious.

Though her eyes were still closed, Lyra tested out the movement of her body. She wriggled her toes and then her finger, she was practically fully awake right now. She could feel the warm press of a mattress beneath her and the soft blanket draped over her. 

Her throat was dry and her stomach growled in complaint of its emptiness. Sighing softly to herself, Lyra blinked open her eyes to find herself in a room painted a pale blue with a cream carpet. It was quite calming to look at. The room was generally empty, minus the bed she was sleeping on and the chair drawn up beside it.

On the chair sat the sleeping blonde boy, the one who had been riding a broom. Lyra glanced outside, it was night; it was still dawn when she’d passed out, had she’d been out for the entire day.

Up close, Lyra was able to take in his features more. He had a pale complexion accompanied with pointed features and a slender, but well built, frame. His white blonde hair had been left to flop on his forehead in a sort of curtain parting. Lyra could see that he was quite good-looking though, even when asleep, she could see a permanent sneer on his face and a look that told her that he thought himself superior to everyone else. This intrigued her. 

Now that she was conscious, Lyra wasn’t entirely sure what to do with herself. She sat up slightly, leaning against the back of the bed. She ran her finger through her hair and glanced at it's strange dark copper, brown colour. Frowning, she felt how knotty it pulled out a piece of grass that had lodged itself in her curls. Blinking, she looked around for a mirror and found one. It was located just in the corner of the room, just out of reach from where she lay. 

Grimacing, she stood up and trotted over towards it and got a good look at herself. She was skinny, but not unhealthy which mean, wherever she came from, she wasn’t badly treated. Her hair streamed just past her shoulder blades in a sea of knotty brown curls; Lyra wondered what it would look like when straight. Her white t-shirt was a mess of grass stains and her shorts were slightly too baggy at the end. Funnily enough, she was bare footed and noticed that there was quite a bit of dirt lodged between her toe nails. By far the oddest thing was a scar on the side of her left leg. It wasn’t like a cut or a bruise, it was like she had been burnt there. It looked like an old scar, one that, whilst unnoticeable at first glance, seemed like it would never fade. The wound from where she’d been shot in the leg was gone too, this made her frown in thought. 

Disappointingly, staring at her own reflection didn’t seem to be able to trigger any memories, not even the burn scar. Sighing, she closed her eyes and bit her lip with such force, she was convinced it was going to start bleeding. Nothing. Chewing the inside of her mouth nervously, she sat down on the carpet and placed her hands on either side of her temples, willing herself to remember at least something.

“Breaker,” she murmured to herself, “Lyra Breaker.”

The realisation struck her when the blonde boy suddenly snorted in surprise to be awake but more likely surprised to see the girl who had dramatically fallen from a tree and fainted in front of him sitting on the carpet, staring at herself in the mirror.

The two looked at each other from across the room, Lyra noted that he had beautiful yet cold silver eyes. She wondered what those eyes usually looked like, the look of confusion and shock didn’t seem to suit the boy. He seemed to lean back, as if judging what to do with her. 

Decisively, Lyra was the first to speak. 

“Where am I?” She asked, her voice hoarse.

“Malfoy Manor,” the boy told her, “who are you?”

“Lyra Breaker,” she felt doubt, “at least, I think so.”

“Breaker?” The boy looked thoughtful before looking back at her, “what do you by you think so?”

“I…” she wasn’t entirely sure how to say this, “I can’t remember anything beyond this morning.”

 

“You’ve been obliviated?” The boy narrowed his eyes.

Lyra nodded, “sure, whatever that means.”

“Well, Lyra Breaker, I’m Malfoy, Draco Malfoy and this is my family’s house.”

“Huh,” She muttered to herself and was prepared to ask more questions when a familiar elf popped up.

“Ditty,” the boy began to the little creature, “fetch mother and father, tell them she’s woken up.”

“Yes Master Draco!” Ditty suddenly popped off again.

Confused, Lyra looked at Draco who simply gave a little ‘I’ll explain later’ shrug in response. Sure enough, two adults popped into the room and glanced in surprise at Lyra.

The woman had blonde hair that was pinned up in a bun, her blue eyes were round with not only caution but the kind of loving care that was completely unfamiliar to Lyra but, then again, practically everything was unfamiliar to Lyra right now. The man, on the other hand, seemed colder and distrusting. His hair was as blonde as his son’s except it was a lot longer.

“She says she’s a Breaker.” Draco told them.

Something instantly flickered in the father’s eyes, recognition.

“Breaker?” Questioned the mother, “as in the Sacred Twenty nine, Breaker?”

“What’s the Sacred Twenty nine?” Asked Lyra, confused.

The two parents looked on at her in even more shock, the father with slight distaste.

“She said she can’t remember anything since this morning.” Draco told them.

“I can remember my name,” she told them, almost nervously, “and like… basic stuff but other than that…” Lyra furrowed her eyebrows and sighed, the weight of her situation was crashing down on her. 

The mother crouched down in front of her and smiled warmly, obviously seeing her anxieties. Lyra smiled back, grateful.

“No…” The father said to himself, “this is too powerful to be a simple obliviate…” 

“Lucius?” The mother furrowed her eyebrows, “are you sure?”

“Obliviates usually don’t affect wizards too much and powerful ones can permanently damage the mind in more ways than just simply forgetting. I think some dark magic has been used here or possibly even blood magic.”

“Magic?” Lyra frowned.

“If she’s forgotten that much then it cannot be an obliviate.” Lucius concluded.

“How are you an animagus if you can’t remember it?” Draco rudely butted in.

“I can imagine, if you’re good at it, the habit of it still stays there…” Lucius told them all, “and if you’ve practiced spells then you still retain a good memory on how to do them just… not how or when you learnt to do so.”

“What’s an ani-may-gus?” Lyra attempted to pronounce the word but failed miserably.

“Someone who can transform into an animal at will. Very few wizards can achieve such a fete let alone someone your age.”

 

The mother seemed to roll her eyes, “now, now, Lucius, let’s slow down a little. Why don’t you tell us your name.”

“I think it’s Lyra Breaker.”

The mother nodded, “my name is Narcissa Malfoy and this is my husband, Lucius Malfoy.”

Lyra managed a weak smile, so many questions still buzzing in her brain.

“What about my family?” She asked, “surely I have one.”

Narcissa’s expression darkened and Lucius frowned deeply; Lyra glanced over at Draco who seemed bewildered.

“The sacred twenty nine,” Lucius began, “are a group of twenty nine families that are completely pure blooded wizard although…” Lucius looked at her, “we thought the Breaker blood line was all wiped out during the last Wizarding War.”

“Oh…” Lyra felt like she should be sad but she struggled to feel anything beyond curiosity and disappointment.

“C’mon,” Narcissa stood up and offered a hand to the young girl, “you must be hungry.”

Lyra nodded and took Narcissa's hand, reveling in the kindness the woman had showed her. Lucius told them he was going to the Ministry to check if Lyra was on any records and inform Fudge of the situation. Lyra wasn’t entirely sure who ‘Fudge’ was but Lucius sneered when he said his name. With that, Lucius disappeared with a ‘pop’ and Lyra was left with the other two Malfoy’s.

After eating a large roast in the extravagant, Malfoy kitchen, Lyra began to notice how tired the other two were. It was late outside and Draco and Narcissa had obviously been exhausted by the day’s events but, as she’d been unconscious all day, Lyra couldn’t say that the feeling was mutual.

However, she knew that she had to get her inner clock in sync with night and day and thus agreed when Narcissa went to show her a nicer bedroom than what she was staying in before.

Lyra loved this room, to say the least. The walls were a black colour decorated with a painting of the stars on the ceiling that seemed to literally glow a dark green hue. There was a large window to the right of the door, allowing a clear view of the front entrance to the manor, though it was too dark to currently see out of. There was a large bed just below the window, covered in a green quilt and pillow. The floor itself was a dark, wooden pine colour with a small green rug placed just in front of the door.

“There should be some sleep wear in those drawers over there.” Narcissa told her.

“Thank you,” Lyra turned to Narcissa, “you’ve already done too much for me.”

“Nonsense,” declared the woman, “we would be doing damage to the Malfoy name if we couldn’t help a fellow Sacred Twenty nine and…” Narcissa smiled gently, “you seem like a lovely lady.”

Lyra smiled and bid the woman goodnight and, much to her surprise, she fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.


	3. When Lyra really meets Draco

Lyra woke up the next morning, letting out a long yawn and blinking away the sleep in her eyes. She glanced around to see that the room was much brighter than it had been the night before, the large window was allowing the sunlight to stream in and it seemed to be quite late in the morning already.

There was a dress laid out for her on the end of the bed along with some underwear. First of all, though, Lyra decided that she needed a shower. Once that was done, she dried her hair and put on the dress. It was slightly too extravagant for her taste but, then again, she wasn’t entirely sure what her taste was. 

She managed to smooth her hair down to an acceptable tidiness and exited the room. She, luckily, remembered the way to the dining room so she travelled through the house and found herself extremely excited by the paintings. Most were asleep, some paid her no attention whilst the others were happy to greet her.

“I haven’t seen a Breaker in this house for a long time,” one said, “it is a delight to be making your acquaintance.”

 

“You too.” Lyra smiled.

So far, the Malfoys had shown her nothing but kindness, she was extremely grateful for that. Though, she wondered what would happen if they did find her actual family. 

When she finally arrived in the dining room, there was only one other person inside.

The Draco boy was calmly sitting at the table, eating a piece of toast and reading a newspaper with moving pictures. He didn’t seem to be very aware of Lyra’s sudden appearance in the room, or he didn’t care. 

“Whatcha reading?” She asked, plonking herself down on a seat across from him.

He looked up, raising one eyebrow. “The daily prophet, here.” 

 

He passed it towards her, she flicked to the front page. She saw a very friendly looking family smiling proudly up at her. She couldn’t recognise any of them but noted that they all had very, very ginger hair.

“Remember anything?” Draco asked.

Lyra shook her head, “nothing.”

“You’re a bit weird, y’know.” The boy told her up front.

“I’ll take that as a good thing,” she replied, unsure of what to do with this boy.

Draco looked at her for a couple of seconds before sighing. “Mother and Father are at the ministry still sorting everything out about you so I have to show you around the house, apparently I need to see if I can ‘trigger’ any memories.”

Lyra looked thoughtful at the prospect, “sound like a good idea.” 

Draco called Ditty the house-elf who happily brought Lyra some toast and beamed when she complimented her on how nice it was, Draco simply rolled his eyes. Whilst the two were eating, he was going through the Daily Prophet with her and teaching her about all she’d forgotten about the wizarding world.

“What’s Hogwarts?” She asked.

“Itsa wizarding school, it’s not that good really… Well, at least the headmaster isn’t.”

 

“Is that the Dumbledore fella,” she gestured to the picture of a wizened old man.

“Oh yes,” Draco said coldly, “that ‘fella’’’

Deciding not to push the topic on the headmaster any further but was too curious about the school to completely drop the conversation.

“So, do you go to Hogwarts?”

“Mhm,” the boy nodded.

“What’s it like?” She asked.

“It’s alright, I guess, really it depends on what lessons you have. History of Magic is great because of the teacher’s too dead to notice anything, literally, so we just kinda mess around all lesson, it’s pretty fun. Potions is alright too, good to annoy Potter in. The rest are meh, I guess.”

 

Lyra raised her eyebrows. The boy, whilst acting nonchalant, seemed to be very much enjoying telling her everything about the school he was attending and Lyra was very curious to learn.

“Who’s Potter?”

At this, Draco began to laugh loudly, as if it were the stupidest question he had ever heard in his life. Lyra shuffled uncomfortably, feeling as if she should know the answers but, much to her frustration, could remember nothing.

“Sorry,” Draco regained himself, “he’s such a celebrity at this point it just seems funny for someone to not know… Anyway, he, uh this is complicated.”

Lyra furrowed her eyebrows thoughtfully before confidently standing up.

“Then let’s go for a walk.” She declared.

Draco looked doubtful but didn’t get the chance to refuse as she practically dragged him off of his seat and in the direction she figured the entrance was. Draco followed with a vaguely amused look on his otherwise impassive face.

When they exited the house, Lyra was hit by a blast of warm, summer air and found herself questioning something.

“What’s the date?” She asked.

“July 31st,” Draco told her absently.

Lyra froze, “January 8th.”

 

“What?” Draco suddenly looked excited, “did you remember something?”

 

Lyra was equally as happy, “my birthday! I remember! January 8th, 1980!”

“Mother and Father will be delighted,” Draco said happily, his mood improved. 

“So who is Potter?” She changed the subject, still feeling rather ecstatic, “Is he old?”

“Not at all, in fact, he’s a couple of months younger than you and me.”

“Huh,” Lyra looked thoughtful, “then, why is he so famous?”

 

Draco pursed his lips together in thought. “Well, it’s complicated. Basically, the Dark Lord started a massive Wizarding war and tried to kill Potter’s parents, which he did.”

“Did he kill Potter?”

 

“No, for some reason, he couldn’t kill him so, when he shot the killing curse at him, it rebounded and hit You-Know-Who instead.”

“You-Know-Who?” Lyra furrowed her eyebrows.

“His actual name is…” Draco looked away, “V-Voldemort but don’t say his name, people don’t like it that much.”

“What about you? Do you mind saying it?”

 

Draco paused on the question as if thinking deeply. “Not as much as others, but I’d rather you just used He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who.”

 

“Okay, so did You-Know-Who die?”

“People like to think so, but some think there’s a chance he’s still alive.”

A look had clouded Draco’s face as if he were thinking deeply about something that Lyra couldn’t understand. As a whole, there was a lot she couldn’t figure about the boy, from his expression that flickered from emotion to none, vague answers to any questions about Voldemort. Was there something she was missing? Something she was supposed to know?

Suddenly, there was a rush of pain in her skull.

“Lyra,” the name sounded weird on Draco’s tongue, “are you okay? You’ve gone pale.”

 

Lyra looked at the boy, unsure of herself. She felt guilty and she didn’t know why. 

“I need to find someone.” She told him simply.

“Who?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” She freezes, “can we go back inside?”

Draco froze, hovering in front of her as if deciding what to do. “Sure,” he said eventually, “do you have a fever.”

“No,” she shook her head, “it’s just… a little too much.”

“Must suck losing your memories.”

 

Lyra fixed him with an unamused glare, “yeah, you could say that.”

The two headed back inside the house, where Draco checked her temperature and decided she was okay. They both talked for hours, well, it was mainly Malfoy doing the talking whilst Lyra listened and every once and awhile asked him a question. He had seemed amused at her fascination with magical creatures and had happily told her all about how his name meant dragon. She had also listened carefully when he went into detail about each lesson. They had been talking so much that they hadn’t realised how much time had passed until Ditty popped in between them.

“Mistress Malfoy is wanting to sees you both in the blue living room.” The little house elf told them.

“Sure,” Draco told the elf flatly, “tell her that we’ll be there in a few moments.”

Ditty nodded and disapparated away. 

Draco cocked his head to one side in a gesture to follow him. Lyra did so, struggling to match his long strides. She struggled to memorise the constant turns of the corridors that Draco seemed to know so well. 

After a while, the two teenagers arrived in a large room painted with a grey-blue colour with fairly large windows that allowed a nice view of the manor’s grounds. Lucius and Narcissa were sitting on a long sofa, both looking very grim.

“Lyra,” Narcissa greeted as the two teenagers sat down.

“Is something wrong, mother?” Asked Draco cautiously. 

It was Lucius who answered. “We’ve just returned from the Ministry…” He sighed, “and, regarding you, Lyra, there’s nothing. It’s like you didn’t exist.” 

“The only other Breakers on record are deceased.” Narcissa added, “and no one with your name has ever attended Hogwarts or any other listed Wizarding Schools.”

Was she supposed to be saddened by this? Lyra couldn’t tell. She couldn’t remember anything, was she supposed to feel sad for a family she couldn’t remember.

“The last surviving Breakers were Erica Breaker and George Breaker, but both of them died in the most recent Wizarding War,” Lucius told her with little emotion.

Lyra nodded, not really comprehending anything.

“Where do I go, then?” She dared to ask, “if I have no relatives.”

“Well,” Narcissa exchanged a glance with Lucius, “you can stay with us until we find your family.”

The teenager felt a wave of relief wash over her, she was scared at she’d be forced to go to some orphanage or with some distant family member that she’d never met before. But, the prospect of staying with the Malfoys was far less daunting. 

"Thank you," the girl said sincerely, "really."

Narcissa's face softened, "it's just good courtesy really."

In that moment, Lyra couldn't help but notice a calculating expression come from Lucius, as though he were trying to decipher her. She hesitated when she looked back at the man, not sure what to do.

Little did either of them know, that this would set off a chain reaction of events that would change the Malfoys' lives forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was reading back on the first chapters I wrote of this and oh my God is it crap. I'll try to be a better writer.


	4. When Lyra travels to Diagon Alley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, I sort of forgot this story existed. Oh well, here it is now. I think it's okay, it feels sort of rushed, but I promise things will slow down when we get to Hogwarts.

The summer seemed to fly by, and Lyra was quickly losing track of the days. It was suddenly near the end of August and Lyra had just got her first ever letter. 

“It’s from Hogwarts,” she said, tilting her head to the side, “that’s the school, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” said Draco, as he was reading a letter from one of his friends, “it took you awhile to get it, I got my letter ages ago.”

Lyra ignored him, “am I going there?”

“Obviously, you’re a witch, you need to learn magic.”

“I do?”

He sighed in his usual over-dramatic fashion, loud and exasperated, “of course you do, Lyra, it’s like the most important thing.”

“Okay,” she said, opening the letter, “if you say so.”

Dear Miss Breaker,   
Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King’s Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o’clock. 

Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign. 

A list of books for next year is enclosed. 

Your sorting will take place after the first years have been sorted.

Yours sincerely,   
Professor M. McGonagall   
Deputy Headmistress 

“Who’s she?” Asked Lyra, showing Draco the letter.

He scanned through it quickly, “deputy headmistress and head of Gryffindor house, but she’s not really biased.”

“What house am I in?”

Draco sighed again, “the sorting house decides when you get there, so you’re not in any house right now. We talked about this last week.”

“I don’t remember,” she shrugged, “I forget things.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Do we have to go to Diagon Alley to pick up books?” She asked, looking at him curiously.

Draco nodded, “we’re going tomorrow I think.”

“With who?”

“Mother.”

The next day they headed off to Diagon Alley via the floo network, which Lyra hadn’t been a massive fan of. However, the moment she arrived, she had instantly wandered off to explore, leaving Draco and Narcissa to follow her and point her in the right direction. It was fascinating to her, a new world. This was the first time she had left the manor’s grounds and it was a completely different world to anything else she had ever seen. There were so many buildings, and so many people crowded together at once, bustling and pushing past each other as they walked in and out of shops to buy something or other. Each shop had a beautiful front display to it all, from books to broomsticks and cauldrons to owls. 

“We’ll start at Madam Malkin’s,” stated Narcissa, after she had dragged Lyra away from the pet shop, “we can get you a pet later.”

 

“Really?” The girl looked up eagerly.

“Obviously,” said Draco scornfully, “everyone at Hogwarts needs a pet. Well, at least most people do.”

 

“We need to pick up some plain work robes and a winter cloak, and we might as well just pick up some better fitting robes for you too, Draco, they’re getting a little short on the sleeves.”

 

“Yes, mother,” said Draco, pulling Lyra away from the broomstick display she had been gawking at.

When they got to Madam Malkin’s Robes for all Occasions, Lyra found herself being awkwardly measured up and down by the woman herself, who wouldn’t stop asking questions.

“Are you another Malfoy then?” She asked.

“No,” said Lyra.

“Who are you then? This is the first time I’ve seen you in my shop, and I would remember seeing a girl with the Malfoys.”

“I’m new,” was her only answer, not particularly keen on the lady’s constant questioning.

Once they had bought the robes, Lyra was happy to get out of the shop. After that, they bought books for both Draco and her along with new quills and a large cauldron with all the ingredients necessary for the year ahead. Narcissa had then exclaimed that she had something else to fetch and gave them some money to buy the rest of their things. So, they also stopped by the broomstick shop, which seemed enveloped by a crowd of people.

“It’s the fastest broom in the world,” said one boy, who was much younger than Lyra.

“Irish International Side’s just put in an order for seven of these beauties!” the proprietor of the shop told the crowd. “And they’re favourites for the World Cup!” 

“That’s the Firebolt,” muttered Draco, his eyes gleaming, “state-of-the-art racing broom, best on the market, all the professionals use it. It’s bloody expensive though, even father would be unsure about whether he would buy for me or not.”

“Do you want it?” Lyra asked, curious.

“Of course,” he said pompously, “but I’m happy with my broom as it is, the nimbus two thousand and one is still better than Potter’s.”

Lyra had seen him zipping around on it a few times, and the Malfoy’s had a spare one which she had taken to using but was still learning the basics, which was almost impossible when her teacher was the impatient Draco.

Next on their list was more books which hadn’t been sold in the other one, only in Flourish and Bolts. When they walked in, a young wizard was sitting at the counter, bored, but his face quickly became horror-stricken when the two walked in.

“Don’t tell me,” he said, “are you two in third year?”

The two looked at each other.

“Yeah?” Said Draco.

He sighed, standing up and walked across the shop whilst putting on protective gloves. Lyra followed the worker’s eyes and spotted a cage filled with strange, spider-looking books with an awful mouth-thing that were currently attempting to rip each other apart.

“That must be the monster book of monsters,” she said, “they’re alive.”

Draco looked at them with uncertainty, “are you sure they’re ours?”

“Believe me, you must have some insane kind of teacher to give you these books.”

Lyra frowned, “they’re living creatures, like us, there must be a way to calm them down.”

“When you figure that out, feel free to tell me. In the meantime, here’s some rope.”

Once he had got the monster books out, Draco and Lyra had had a frustrating time pinning them to the ground and tying them up with a piece of rope, which took much effort, Once that was done, they paid for the rest of the books and left the shop, new books under their arms.

The two stopped outside the shop whilst they attempted to put their books in their cauldrons, Lyra spotted something in the corner of her eyes.

“That’s the Sirius Black fella,” she said, looking at the poster, “the one who murdered all those muggles.”

He had a gaunt, sunken face with waxy skin, yellow teeth and knotty hair. There was a strange, crazed, but sad, look in his eyes, Lyra couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. Draco had told her of the horror that was Azkaban and the Dementor guards and how they would feed off of negative thoughts, Lyra hated the thought of that.

 

“Yep, that’s him,” Draco said, “okay. Let’s go!”

“Where to next?” Asked Lyra.

“Well,” Draco read the checklist, “I guess we could go get your wand now.”

“Really?” Lyra asked excitedly.

“Yeah,” he wasn’t fazed by her enthusiasm, “it’s the only thing you haven’t got yet. It’s only down here.”

The two entered a narrow, shabby shop with a sign that read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. written in peeling, golden letters. The shop was tiny, empty except for a single, spindly chair in the corner. Thousands of narrow boxes containing wands were piled right up to the ceiling of the tiny shop, and the whole place had a thin layer of dust about it. 

The little bell above the door rang as they entered, alerting the shop owner.

Mr Ollivander was an old man with pale silvery eyes and white skin and looked curious when he saw Draco, “Ah, Mr Malfoy. Hawthorn wand with a unicorn hair core and was 10”. And who’s your friend?”

 

Draco seemed on edge around this man, Lyra couldn’t blame him.

“I’m Lyra Breaker,” she said, when she realised Draco wasn’t going to say anything.

“Ah, a Breaker? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one of you in my shop. Of course, I remember giving your parents their wands a very long time ago. Your mother had a dragon heartstring wand, good for transfiguration. Come to think about it, so was your father’s, but that was made from Unicorn tail-hair.”

Lyra was intrigued, but remained cautious. “You knew my parents?”

“Of course, every wizard needs a wand, and I never forget a customer.”

She was impressed but freaked out at the same time.

“I wonder what your wand will be,” he peered at her, “what’s your wand arm?”

“Uh- right arm,” she guessed.

“Hold out your arm. That's it.” He measured Lyra from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round her head, though the tape measure was doing it on its own. As it measured, he said, “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Miss Breaker. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons, with a few exceptions. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand. That’s enough.”

The measuring tape dropped to the ground as Ollivander took one of the boxes off the shelf and gave her the wand inside.

“Try this one, mahogany, unicorn tail-hair, eight inches. Very hardy.”

She took the wand and waved it around and there was a loud bang, that caused Draco and Lyra to jump. Ollivander on the other hand was unaffected, and just shook his head in disappointment.

“Not that one, I suppose,” he took the wand off of her and placed another one in her hand, “try this. Vine, eleven inches, dragon heartstring, flexible.”

Lyra took it and waved it but Mr Ollivander quickly snatched it back.

“No, no,” the old man shook his head, “that won’t do.”

Lyra couldn’t help but feel a little impatient, would there ever be a wand that worked for her? Mr Ollivander was about to grab another wand, but then glanced back at her before walking behind a shelf so he was out of sight.

“Where’d he go?” She wondered aloud.

“I don’t know,” shrugged Draco, “I wish he would hurry, this place gives me the creeps.”

 

And he did return, holding an extremely old-looking box that was cover in a thick layer of dust.

“This,” he began, “was not crafted by me, but by my grandfather many years ago. He preferred to use different cores to my own, thestral tail-hair was one he favoured. Personally, I find it too temperamental, so I have it in the back of the shop for over a century now, but I feel as though you may be able to use it. It’s blackthorn, thestral-tail hair, around ten and a half inches and is very temperamental.”

 

She picked up the wand and, instantly, a strange freezing sensation went through her fingers. She raised it upwards and waved it, expecting another explosion or something. Instead, a bright array of silver sparks erupted from it, and showered down on her. Draco patted her on the back and Ollivander nodded, satisfied.

“Well, as it goes, the wand chooses the wizard,” he said, “and that is a very unusual wand you have there, Miss Breaker.”

Lyra looked back at Mr Ollivander and back at her wand, unsure of herself. After paying, she and Draco left the shop and she let out a loud sigh of relief.

“It was stuffy in there,” she said, glancing behind her shoulder, “I’m glad we’re out.”

Draco didn’t reply, but was looking at her with wide eyes.

“What?” She asked, “what is it?”

 

He looked at the floor.

“Spit it out, Draco, don’t leave me talking to myself here.”

 

“Sorry, Lyra,” he said, “it’s just- only those who have seen death can control thestral-tail hair wands, that’s what father said.”

She blinked, “what?”

“I mean,” he began, “people can only see thestrals if they’ve seen death, so you must’ve seen some death to be able to control a wand like that.”

She looked at the wand, “maybe I did. I can’t remember.”

Lyra didn’t feel any sort of emotion over the mention of seeing death, in fact, she felt a little curious. Was this another clue to solving her past? Maybe…

Narcissa eventually reappeared and, though Lyra wasn’t planning on asking about the wand, Draco did it for her. The woman hadn’t really been able to say much, she didn’t know much about wands, but she did take Lyra to the pet shop to ‘make her feel better’ despite the fact that she felt fine.

“I’d get an owl if I were you,” said Draco, “they’re useful.”

“She doesn’t have to get one if she doesn’t want to, Draco,” scolded Narcissa, “she could just use one of your owls, or one of the school’s owls.”

“I’ll probably get an owl,” she hummed, looking at them, but was distracted by something else.

She instantly walked away from the owls and towards a different cage, peering in. Peering back at her was a completely black cat with bright, vivid green eyes. When the two made eye contact, it began purring loudly.

“Is that a cat?” She asked.

“Yes, obviously,” Draco rolled his eyes, “what else does it look like?”

“It’s cute!” She declared, “can I have it?”

Draco frowned, “a cat? But cat’s are useless!”

Narcissa ignored her son and laughed, “of course you can have it Lyra,” she smiled, “here, the cat supplies are over here…”

They paid for the cat and the cat supplies, finding out that the cat was nameless and was actually a boy. Then, they used the floo powder to go back to Malfoy Manor and Narcissa hurried off, claiming she had an important meeting before dinner. Draco went outside to go on his broomstick whilst Lyra decided to go up to her room and look over her stuff.

“I wonder what I should name you,” Lyra watched the cat trot around the room, sniffing every corner of his new home.

She was sitting on her bed, looking at her books, the wand lying on her lap. She glanced at it, still feeling weird about the thestral-tail hair. Had she really seen death before? Why couldn’t she remember it? Why couldn’t she remember anything? It was frustrating.

“Why do you think I forgot everything?” She asked the cat, “maybe I hit my head on something…”

She sighed, glancing over some of her books. Some were for school, some she had bought straight of curiosity. One of them was a book about beasts, written by Newt Scamander. She glanced back at the cat.

“What do you think of the name ‘newt,’” she asked him.

In typical cat fashion, it just rubbed its head against the bedpost and began purring for no reason.

“Newt it is then,” Lyra decided, lying down and staring up at the ceiling.

She would be starting school soon, that was a scary thought. Maybe, just maybe, she would discover something about her past.


End file.
